


He Thinks I'm His Own...

by Lucky7



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hunting, POV Male Character, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky7/pseuds/Lucky7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese has a stalker, one who’s followed the man-in-a-suit many times before. It’s time for another confrontation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Thinks I'm His Own...

He hangs around the building corner, ducking behind the dumpster in the alley to avoid attracting notice from the sidewalk traffic. Drawing attention to himself right now would put an end to his plans today, and he’s been waiting here for a while already, ever since slipping away from his own pad early this morning.

But finally…the man-in-the-suit appears. Wearing an overcoat, a new black overcoat. He gives a derisive sniff, and a mental scoff at the obvious disguise. Like a coat would fool him! 

He knows this individual, has followed him many times before. He knows everything about this person, his form, his gait, body language... No. It will take more than a change of clothing to hide this man’s identity from him.

Over the past few days, the morning routine had become swiftly apparent. His man-in-a-suit leaves the apartment building early, just as the crowds start trickling onto the sidewalks. Walks to the news vendor and picks up a newspaper…a big thick one with barely dried ink. Talks a bit with the old woman across the small counter. She's a fixture on the corner, and this morning is wrapped in a musty shawl against the breeze. The man drops a few coins on the counter before turning back onto the sidewalk, unaware of a stalker.

He shivers, but not because of the cold; his heavy coat will shield him from the wind. Certainly better than the old woman's ancient shawl will protect her, and maybe even better than the coat the man-in-a-suit wears this morning.  
No, he shivers in anticipation. The hunt is on. 

The man-in-a-suit takes the paper to the street corner and waits there to join the human tide that eventually flows across the traffic lanes. Then heads to the building, the one with the faded circle painted on the window and…ah, the odors that come out of that shop are mouth watering! Sugar, oil, vanilla, cream…coffee. Over whelming sometimes, but they make his stomach complain as though it hadn’t been filled but an hour before.

His target disappears inside, into the cloud of heavenly flavors that mantle the doorway, while he moves to the side of the building and makes himself comfortable. 

From past experience he knows it will be some time before his quarry reappears as the shop is full of patrons, all waiting to hand over their precious coins in return for cups of steaming liquid and boxes stamped with the image on the window. Boxes that house those fragrant scents found only in certain shops in the city.

Patiently he watches as people come and go through the glass doors. Others don’t register with him; he’s only interested in one person…the one he found several days ago by pure chance, when passing by this very building. That’s when he started his stalking…after he discovered that the man-in-a-suit possessed something very appealing, something he covets. 

Looking around intently now and then, he’s careful of not lingering too close to the entrance as the shop owner has a well deserved reputation of calling the authorities at the first sign of a vagrant…and what he doesn’t need is to have some uniform grab him and stuff him in the back of a vehicle. Been there, done that. So not again, not when he is so close to meeting his goal.

Ah, the hunt is on again. His man exits the shop with a steaming cup in one hand and a box in the other, the paper tucked under one arm. It would be so easy to take his target down now, with those hands occupied with the goods brought out of the shop. He could run into the guy, give one hard shove and they, the liquid, the paper, the box...all would be brought to ground. 

But that might not accomplish his goal...and certainly not in the long run. What he wants from the man-in-a-suit must be given freely.

So, no…that isn’t the way. He will track his quarry to the final destination as before, and confront the man there. And if the established routine of the last few days holds true, that destination will be an old deserted building a few blocks away.

As his prey continues down the block, he follows at a discrete distance, walking at a normal pace but hugging the building side of the walkways so as not to interfere with the increasing number of humans that are cramming the sidewalk. 

The man-in-a-suit is not aware of being followed…or at least gives no indication of being tracked. 

Down the block and to the right. There. That is the building into which his target normally disappears. He will have to arrange the confrontation now before his man steps down the stairs to the lower entrance. Once his quarry is in the building he will lose his chance for another day. 

And he really wants to end this quest now, bring today’s hunt to its inevitable conclusion.

He increases his pace to a lope, quickly closing the distance between them. Now is the time. With a quick movement to the right, he places himself between the man and the stairway.

And waits.

The man-in-the-suit smiles…puts the cup on the barrier post and turns, speaking in soft tones while opening the box.  
He tenses in anticipation.

“Well, well. I thought you were behind me again. So what will it be today? The glazed, sprinkled, or the vanilla iced? Not one with chocolate topping though...that’s not good for you.”

The man hands him the treat and reaches for him.  
Ah, ecstasy. A human hand scratching his ears…and a whole donut, all his own!  
Licking the last of the icing off his nose, he looks with longing at the now closed box. But his benefactor is already moving down the stairs, out of sight. 

He doesn’t try to follow, but enjoys a quick body shake and then turns to pad away home.  
After all, he’ll be stalking the man-in-a-suit again in the morning…

End

**Author's Note:**

> Note:  
> Continuing to follow a person who rewards that action with a treat is reasonable: it has become “learned behavior”.  
> But with most of this story I’m taking literary liberty as it’s not true to nature: dogs are image driven and live in the moment, thus do not plan ahead.  
> And who really knows how they think?  
> But…hey…it’s just a fluff read. :) 


End file.
